We attended a Brit yesterday morning. Had to get up at 6AM and drive for 45 minutes and we still missed the main event. But it was nice to see family members and wish each other Mazal Tov on the newest addition to the Jewish nation.
As we were munching on bagels and lox, the baby's father spoke about the name they chose for their son. They called him Avraham, after the father's maternal grandpa (his mother's father), who happens to have been my great uncle. Oren spoke about his zaidy's life in Europe, his escape to Siberia during the Holocaust, his life in a displaced persons' camp, his journey to America and how he settled in Wisconsin. Then he told of how the high level of intermarriage in Wisconsin worried grandpa so much that he moved his family to Queens, NY and accepted a life of hard work and constant economizing just so he can give his kids a Jewish education and live in a Jewish environment. He compared his grandpa to the original Avraham, who also accepted personal sacrifices in order to promote Jewish education (it's complicated to explain, but trust me, it made sense.) And here is the newest Avraham, sleeping in the next room, who will be as committed to a Jewish life as his ancestors were.
In this week's parasha, Moshe says (D'varim chapter 29, verses 13-14) : "Not just with you alone I am making this brit, but with those who are here today and with those who are not here with us today." Who was there? Well, duh, the Israelites. Who was not there? Well....us. So all future generations are also committed to the covenant. But who else was not there? Those who came before. The brit between G-d and the Jewish people is between ALL the Jewish people. Past, present and future. Everyone is committed, everyone is included, everyone counts. We are all connected.
The proud grandma, my second cousin Hadassa, is an excellent example of 'past present and future' as well as of 'everyone is included'. Her family are all devoted Jews. It's one of those families you look at and sigh with pleasure (and envy, I must admit). They all get along famously (and we're talking 4 sons and three daughters in law, as well as quite a few grandchildren, who all vacation together, if you can imagine. By choice.) And so the connection between past, present and future is very clear, very strong and very vibrant. Those kids are very strong on who they are, where they are coming from and where they are going. And cousin Hadassa is very inclusive. She is always having guests over, welcoming any level of observance (or non), cheerfully and lovingly accepting everyone as they are. We are all family, seems to be her motto.
Also, she cooks great stuff.
Hadassa's chicken with orange (that's the color, not the fruit) sauce
2 cut up chickens
8 oz french salad dressing
8 oz apricot jam
3/4 of a packet of onion soup mix
Mix salad dressing, jam and onion soup mix.
Pour over chicken pieces.
Bake at 350F for 2 hours, basting every 30 minutes.
Serves 8.
Years ago I ate this dish at my cousin's house and I thought it was awesome. I found out later that it's pretty common but that's the great thing about Hadassa: she doesn't cook anything mind boggling or weird; but what she does cook, she cooks really well. In cooking, as in life, you don't have to produce fireworks all the time. It's the simple, everyday things that need to be done well, and with love. We don't need fireworks to connect us. A simple meal, with smiles and love, accepting everyone as family and remembering that we are all connected through the brit we have all committed to. It's enough.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
With pleasure
A few years ago, on Rosh Hashana, we entered my mother-in-law's house, dressed to the nines, glowing with holiday good will and ready for an evening of food, family and festivities. I wished my brother in law "Joyful holiday" (in Hebrew, but I don't like how it's spelled when written in "Hebrish"), to which he responded "If you truly understood the meaning of Rosh Hashana, you wouldn't call it 'joyful'." I had spoken here before about the plague of younger siblings, haven't I?
This week's parasha is down right scary. The list of bad things that will happen to those who will not follow G-d's rules is enough to make you lose sleep, worrying if you missed something so important that it will bring these awful things upon your head. Plagues of body and soul, hunger, disease, exile, death, loss, terror and more (and they don't even count younger siblings; clearly an oversight.) You feel like cowering down and shouting "OK, OK, I'll do whatever you want, just tell me what it is." Which, of course, we've already been told, in detail, for the last three and a half books of the Torah. My friend Debbie would probably say that one should just do what G-d wants us to do and then none of those awful things will come to pass. And she's right, too, except who is so perfect that they manage to follow ALL the rules, ALL the time?
This is an excellent parasha to read before the high holidays. It reminds us to take stock of the many ways we might have missed the point this year and to make a list of things we need to ask forgiveness for. One thing I regret not doing enough of this year is reading the bible. I mean, I do read it. Just not as much as I need to. Luckily, I have managed to escape some of the punishments listed in the parasha (I have certainly not suffered any hunger. Au contraire.) The reason for more reading is that when one reads the Torah repeatedly, one may happen upon the little tidbits that are easily overlooked during casual readings. Like D'varim 28, verse 47: "because you have not served G-d amid gladness and goodness of heart, when everything was abundant."
Correct me if I'm wrong here, but doesn't this mean that G-d's commandments should be followed with joy? And doesn't the Talmud say that Yom Kippur (of all days) was one of the best days for Jews? Isn't it obvious that when one is growing closer to G-d (through fulfilling His mitzvot) one will also grow happier? Even joyfuller? And on the eve of Rosh Hashana, with the abundance of food on the laden table, the beautifully dressed, healthy and happy children and the two days ahead with nothing to do but get closer and closer to G-d, shouldn't one be joyful?
Sure the mitzvot are important, says Moshe, but don't forget (he tucks in the middle of the list) that your joy in following them is an expression of your gratitude to G-d for giving you all that you have, including mitzvot.
My oldest daughter, for example, is rejoicing in her return to the land of always-available-reasonably-priced-avocados. Apparently we were in Israel during the wrong season (you're telling me??) for avocados and she suffered severe withdrawal symptoms. Now that she again has access to a decent supply of the "food of the gods", she can make the following dish, which is way better than it sounds. I was skeptical too, until I tasted it.
Pasta with avocado sauce
1/2 ripe avocado, peeled and pitted
Juice from 1/4-1/2 a lemon
5 leaves of fresh basil
1/2 Tbs olive oil
1/4 Tbs granulated garlic
1/4 Tbs salt
1/2 Tbs black pepper
2 cups cooked pasta
(The amounts of spices and lemon juice are suggestions. Add according to taste)
In a food processor, process avocado, lemon juice, basil and olive oil until creamy.
Mix in spices (salt, garlic, pepper and the rest of the lemon juice) according to you liking.
Add the sauce to the cooked (hot) pasta, little by little, mixing well between additions. You may end up not using the whole amount of sauce or needing more sauce (in which case, just start the food processor again with more avocado etc.). The pasta should be nicely coated in light green sauce.
This can be eaten hot or cold and will serve 2.
And remember: Do mitzvot joyfully. Even on Rosh Hashana.....
This week's parasha is down right scary. The list of bad things that will happen to those who will not follow G-d's rules is enough to make you lose sleep, worrying if you missed something so important that it will bring these awful things upon your head. Plagues of body and soul, hunger, disease, exile, death, loss, terror and more (and they don't even count younger siblings; clearly an oversight.) You feel like cowering down and shouting "OK, OK, I'll do whatever you want, just tell me what it is." Which, of course, we've already been told, in detail, for the last three and a half books of the Torah. My friend Debbie would probably say that one should just do what G-d wants us to do and then none of those awful things will come to pass. And she's right, too, except who is so perfect that they manage to follow ALL the rules, ALL the time?
This is an excellent parasha to read before the high holidays. It reminds us to take stock of the many ways we might have missed the point this year and to make a list of things we need to ask forgiveness for. One thing I regret not doing enough of this year is reading the bible. I mean, I do read it. Just not as much as I need to. Luckily, I have managed to escape some of the punishments listed in the parasha (I have certainly not suffered any hunger. Au contraire.) The reason for more reading is that when one reads the Torah repeatedly, one may happen upon the little tidbits that are easily overlooked during casual readings. Like D'varim 28, verse 47: "because you have not served G-d amid gladness and goodness of heart, when everything was abundant."
Correct me if I'm wrong here, but doesn't this mean that G-d's commandments should be followed with joy? And doesn't the Talmud say that Yom Kippur (of all days) was one of the best days for Jews? Isn't it obvious that when one is growing closer to G-d (through fulfilling His mitzvot) one will also grow happier? Even joyfuller? And on the eve of Rosh Hashana, with the abundance of food on the laden table, the beautifully dressed, healthy and happy children and the two days ahead with nothing to do but get closer and closer to G-d, shouldn't one be joyful?
Sure the mitzvot are important, says Moshe, but don't forget (he tucks in the middle of the list) that your joy in following them is an expression of your gratitude to G-d for giving you all that you have, including mitzvot.
My oldest daughter, for example, is rejoicing in her return to the land of always-available-reasonably-priced-avocados. Apparently we were in Israel during the wrong season (you're telling me??) for avocados and she suffered severe withdrawal symptoms. Now that she again has access to a decent supply of the "food of the gods", she can make the following dish, which is way better than it sounds. I was skeptical too, until I tasted it.
Pasta with avocado sauce
1/2 ripe avocado, peeled and pitted
Juice from 1/4-1/2 a lemon
5 leaves of fresh basil
1/2 Tbs olive oil
1/4 Tbs granulated garlic
1/4 Tbs salt
1/2 Tbs black pepper
2 cups cooked pasta
(The amounts of spices and lemon juice are suggestions. Add according to taste)
In a food processor, process avocado, lemon juice, basil and olive oil until creamy.
Mix in spices (salt, garlic, pepper and the rest of the lemon juice) according to you liking.
Add the sauce to the cooked (hot) pasta, little by little, mixing well between additions. You may end up not using the whole amount of sauce or needing more sauce (in which case, just start the food processor again with more avocado etc.). The pasta should be nicely coated in light green sauce.
This can be eaten hot or cold and will serve 2.
And remember: Do mitzvot joyfully. Even on Rosh Hashana.....
Thursday, August 15, 2013
"We haven't learned anything yet, it seems"
40 years ago, when they have just left Egypt, the Israelites received a long list of basic human community rules. How well they followed them I don't know, but they were not very exemplary in most of their behavior. Hence, the 40 years.
Now the journey is almost over and here comes a "new" list of basic behavior for a human society. The lists are surprisingly alike with the new one mostly containing elaborations on and extensions of the original one. Didn't they learn anything in the last 40 years?
We are leaving Israel this week. It's been an eye opening trip and my kids learned a lot (mostly about dirt.) The majority of Israelis that we met fell into 2 categories: unbearably rude and crass or overly familiar and helpful. Israelis are very proud of their rudeness. They view other nations as cold, uncaring and phoney. There is charm in the rudeness sometimes but mostly it creates a sense of stress and danger. Not surprising. Israelis live under constant danger and with endless stress. The question I ask myself as I am headed to the airport is: "Did the danger and stress create the impatience, unruliness and rudeness, or did the behavior cause a feeling of constant stress and danger?"
I have no answer. I am leaving with more questions than what I have arrived with.
Looking at the parasha, the Israelis are big on helping each other. We always found help when we really needed it. Sometimes more than we expected (We fondly recall a site guard in Ramla who entertained us with stories, waited an extra hour before leaving the site on a Friday afternoon so we can finish our picnic, changed some bills for us and offered cold water and the use of his home for the night. Typical Israeli.) So it seems the Israelis have remembered the laws about communal responsibility.
But in between the lines of the parasha, there are additional rules that are a step beyond the basics. Rules about politeness, gentleness and kindness. These are rare in Israel. Especially the first. I have not heard the words "please", "thank you" or "sorry" except on very rare occasions and practically never from kids speaking to adults. Pushing ahead of others is a way of life and people simply expect violence (verbal and even physical) from others.
Almost everywhere we went this week, we heard the sound of the shofar, reminding us that the high holidays are upon us. Time for taking stock and making some changes. I appeal to my Israeli brethren: "Chevreh, please consider being a little nicer to each other. Or at least to strangers."
We stayed this week with Galit and her family. Galit is one of hubby's many (many, many) cousins and she had introduced me, way back at the beginning of our visit to the following dish. It immediately captured my heart because it tastes like it has cheese in it, but it doesn't. Perfect for either dairy or meat meal (a separation that no Israeli I met seems to make or care about, alas.) Parve dishes are the most polite and considerate of all dishes. They are nice for everything and nice to everybody. Especially this one:
Cousin Galit's onion pie with no cheese
4 large onions, thinly sliced
Optional - 2 cups of thinly sliced mushrooms
3 eggs
1/3 cup vegetable or canola oil
3/4 cup self rising flour
1/2 cup water
1 Tbs onion soup mix (optional)
Salt and pepper to taste
2-3 tsp oil for oiling the pan
1/4-1/3 cup breadcrumbs
You can saute the onions in a little oil (besides the oil mentioned here) until golden or use it raw (it will have a different flavor. I prefer to cook it first). You can also saute 2 cups of sliced mushrooms along with it, if you wish.
Add eggs, oil, flour, water, onion soup mix (if using), salt and pepper.
Oil a 9x13 pan and sprinkle a nice layer of breadcrumbs on top of the oil (sort of like "flouring" a pan for a cake.) Make sure to oil and breadcrumb the bottom and the walls of the pan.
Pour onion mixture in and sprinkle more breadcrumbs on top.
Bake at 385F for about 40 minutes (check after 30minutes, though) or until pie is golden-brown.
Thank you to all the Israelis who were kind, nice and helpful above and beyond the call of duty (and sometimes without any duty, just for the joy of helping a fellow Israeli.) Here is my b'racha to you as I leave: "May you soon find yourselves without an outside reason for being stressed, so that you'll be able to at least consider becoming calm, patient and polite."
Peace be unto you.
Now the journey is almost over and here comes a "new" list of basic behavior for a human society. The lists are surprisingly alike with the new one mostly containing elaborations on and extensions of the original one. Didn't they learn anything in the last 40 years?
We are leaving Israel this week. It's been an eye opening trip and my kids learned a lot (mostly about dirt.) The majority of Israelis that we met fell into 2 categories: unbearably rude and crass or overly familiar and helpful. Israelis are very proud of their rudeness. They view other nations as cold, uncaring and phoney. There is charm in the rudeness sometimes but mostly it creates a sense of stress and danger. Not surprising. Israelis live under constant danger and with endless stress. The question I ask myself as I am headed to the airport is: "Did the danger and stress create the impatience, unruliness and rudeness, or did the behavior cause a feeling of constant stress and danger?"
I have no answer. I am leaving with more questions than what I have arrived with.
Looking at the parasha, the Israelis are big on helping each other. We always found help when we really needed it. Sometimes more than we expected (We fondly recall a site guard in Ramla who entertained us with stories, waited an extra hour before leaving the site on a Friday afternoon so we can finish our picnic, changed some bills for us and offered cold water and the use of his home for the night. Typical Israeli.) So it seems the Israelis have remembered the laws about communal responsibility.
But in between the lines of the parasha, there are additional rules that are a step beyond the basics. Rules about politeness, gentleness and kindness. These are rare in Israel. Especially the first. I have not heard the words "please", "thank you" or "sorry" except on very rare occasions and practically never from kids speaking to adults. Pushing ahead of others is a way of life and people simply expect violence (verbal and even physical) from others.
Almost everywhere we went this week, we heard the sound of the shofar, reminding us that the high holidays are upon us. Time for taking stock and making some changes. I appeal to my Israeli brethren: "Chevreh, please consider being a little nicer to each other. Or at least to strangers."
We stayed this week with Galit and her family. Galit is one of hubby's many (many, many) cousins and she had introduced me, way back at the beginning of our visit to the following dish. It immediately captured my heart because it tastes like it has cheese in it, but it doesn't. Perfect for either dairy or meat meal (a separation that no Israeli I met seems to make or care about, alas.) Parve dishes are the most polite and considerate of all dishes. They are nice for everything and nice to everybody. Especially this one:
Cousin Galit's onion pie with no cheese
4 large onions, thinly sliced
Optional - 2 cups of thinly sliced mushrooms
3 eggs
1/3 cup vegetable or canola oil
3/4 cup self rising flour
1/2 cup water
1 Tbs onion soup mix (optional)
Salt and pepper to taste
2-3 tsp oil for oiling the pan
1/4-1/3 cup breadcrumbs
You can saute the onions in a little oil (besides the oil mentioned here) until golden or use it raw (it will have a different flavor. I prefer to cook it first). You can also saute 2 cups of sliced mushrooms along with it, if you wish.
Add eggs, oil, flour, water, onion soup mix (if using), salt and pepper.
Oil a 9x13 pan and sprinkle a nice layer of breadcrumbs on top of the oil (sort of like "flouring" a pan for a cake.) Make sure to oil and breadcrumb the bottom and the walls of the pan.
Pour onion mixture in and sprinkle more breadcrumbs on top.
Bake at 385F for about 40 minutes (check after 30minutes, though) or until pie is golden-brown.
Thank you to all the Israelis who were kind, nice and helpful above and beyond the call of duty (and sometimes without any duty, just for the joy of helping a fellow Israeli.) Here is my b'racha to you as I leave: "May you soon find yourselves without an outside reason for being stressed, so that you'll be able to at least consider becoming calm, patient and polite."
Peace be unto you.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Asking for peace
If I forget thee....
But we did not forget, did we? This week, we are in Jerusalem, and let me tell you, no one here forgets anything. From the Arab cab driver who remembers every little insult hurled his way by passing Jews, to the pilgrims standing in line to touch the rock upon which Jesus was crucified, to the Jewish women who sit and cry in front of the one spot at the Kotel tunnels that the archaeologists had determined is located directly in front of the holy-of-hollies. People here have long memories. Thousands of years long.
But the ones who touched our hearts this week were the guides. Young men and women who take people from all over the world around their beloved city and tell about its history with pride, passion and conviction. The guide who took us through the Kotel tunnels had tears in his eyes when he talked about being so close to the holy-of-hollies, yet so impossibly far away from it, since it is located under the dome of the rock mosque. The guide who led us around the city of David must have told the story many, many times and still there was awe in her voice when she told of finding seals inscribed with names of people who are actually mentioned in the bible. And their excitement was contagious. My youngest daughter told me, as we strolled past the Kotel (for the third time this week), after visiting the city of David : "Can you imagine how amazing it would be if Beit HaMikdash was standing?" Can you imagine what a heartbreak it was to explain that the chances for it happening without divine intervention are between zero and nothing? That as long as the mosque is there, we can't even build a succah at the holiest place for Judaism?
In this week's parasha, in D'varim chapter 20, verses 10-13, the Israelites are commanded to always ask for peace before attacking an enemy. If the enemy agrees to peace, OK. But if not; if they make war with you - then, go for it, baby, smite this enemy, mwahaha. But first you must try the "peace talks" route.
Which the Israelis did. Many, many times. Over many, many years. At the cost of many, many lives. The "enemy" keeps resisting. These, btw, are facts; not opinions. Check history if you don't believe me. No matter what accusations the Palestinians put at the feet (or rather, 'hurl at the head') of Israel, the fact remains that Israel always tries for peace and they always refuse. So it seems the time has come for activating some of the Jerusalemite memory and move to the next phase, as described in the bible. This, btw, is an opinion.
Meanwhile, the "simple people" here, try their best to live as normal a life as it is possible to live in a place where every stone is loaded with historical meaning. People like the above mentioned cab driver, the stall merchants in the old city, the tour guides and the cooks and waiters in the city's eateries. Everyone is simply trying to make a living. And in the evenings, when the harsh heat abates, they spill into the streets and sit in the many cafes, little restaurants and bars; most of them outdoors, enjoying the refreshing breeze and the night life; just trying to live as if it is perfectly normal to have signs everywhere directing you to the nearest bomb shelter, soldiers patrolling holy places and guards asking you to open your bags when you enter a store, so you can prove you carry no weapons. Too bad they don't check people's mouths. I know some teenage girls who should register theirs as lethal.
Naturally, we ate a lot in restaurants this week, which is how we were introduced to our new favorite dish: Eggplant "Baladi". Now, when I was a young girl, back in the olden days, the word 'baladi' meant 'homegrown' or 'organic'. Sort of "this was raised by simple farmers on a small farm using no sophisticated modern methods". Nowadays, apparently, it means "smothered in Tahini". It's a dish that represents very well what can happen when Israelis and Palestinians actually cooperate. I'm sure they did not mean to, and it's only in the kitchen, but hey, whatever works, right?
I, being on vacation, and having zero access to a proper kitchen this week, am not a 100% sure how this dish is made. But, I can sort of tell you the 'storyline' of the dish, with ideas and hints, and let you work from there. OK?
So, first of all, you need the type of eggplant that is fat and chunky. It's not exactly black and not exactly purple but a mixture of both. It's also not smooth like the regular eggplants but has some sort of vertical, not very large ridges. You may be able to do this with a regular eggplant that is very fat around but it will have plenty of seeds and taste not so great.
OK. You've got the right eggplant. You will need one per person. You need to get the flesh super soft without charring the skin too badly. This can be done by baking it thoroughly and then peeling carefully. So, put the eggplant in a pan (it's a good idea to spray it first). Make one or two small slits in it. Cover with foil (see if you can make sure the foil does not touch the eggplant.) Bake at 450F for about 20-30 minutes or until a fork can get in easily. Check after the first 20 minutes and every 10 minutes after, until you get a consistency you can imagine eating without any real chewing.
Take it out and let it cool a little. Peel it very carefully, leaving it as whole as you can, leaving the stem intact. You should have a peeled, cooked, whole eggplant, with the stem holding it all together.
Prepare some Tahini (mix sesame paste with enough water to the consistency of stirred yogurt; this requires patient stirring and plenty of faith; add the water slowly.) Spice it up to your liking with salt, pepper, crushed garlic, lemon juice and (optional) chopped parsley.
Next, prepare a tomato sauce. We had this with either a freshly made tomato salsa (quite spicy) or a cooked sauce a little like creamy tomato sauce for pasta, very mild and sweet-like. Both versions are excellent.
Reheat the eggplant a little (microwave, maybe?) The dish is supposed to be served warm. Put the whole eggplant on a plate, pour some tahini on and around it on one side and the tomato sauce on the other side (the tomato sauce was never served on the eggplant, although they are eaten together.) The way this is eaten is by forking a piece of eggplant, dragging it through both sauces, putting the whole thing in your mouth and moaning with pleasure.
This will, hopefully, put you in a mellow mood which will help you ask for peace in Jerusalem. This time, however, I recommend asking G-d. The people we keep asking for peace have made their answer very clear. Ask G-d. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. It's a hauntingly beautiful place that desperately needs some peace and quiet. Sha-aloo Sh'lom Yerushalayim.
But we did not forget, did we? This week, we are in Jerusalem, and let me tell you, no one here forgets anything. From the Arab cab driver who remembers every little insult hurled his way by passing Jews, to the pilgrims standing in line to touch the rock upon which Jesus was crucified, to the Jewish women who sit and cry in front of the one spot at the Kotel tunnels that the archaeologists had determined is located directly in front of the holy-of-hollies. People here have long memories. Thousands of years long.
But the ones who touched our hearts this week were the guides. Young men and women who take people from all over the world around their beloved city and tell about its history with pride, passion and conviction. The guide who took us through the Kotel tunnels had tears in his eyes when he talked about being so close to the holy-of-hollies, yet so impossibly far away from it, since it is located under the dome of the rock mosque. The guide who led us around the city of David must have told the story many, many times and still there was awe in her voice when she told of finding seals inscribed with names of people who are actually mentioned in the bible. And their excitement was contagious. My youngest daughter told me, as we strolled past the Kotel (for the third time this week), after visiting the city of David : "Can you imagine how amazing it would be if Beit HaMikdash was standing?" Can you imagine what a heartbreak it was to explain that the chances for it happening without divine intervention are between zero and nothing? That as long as the mosque is there, we can't even build a succah at the holiest place for Judaism?
In this week's parasha, in D'varim chapter 20, verses 10-13, the Israelites are commanded to always ask for peace before attacking an enemy. If the enemy agrees to peace, OK. But if not; if they make war with you - then, go for it, baby, smite this enemy, mwahaha. But first you must try the "peace talks" route.
Which the Israelis did. Many, many times. Over many, many years. At the cost of many, many lives. The "enemy" keeps resisting. These, btw, are facts; not opinions. Check history if you don't believe me. No matter what accusations the Palestinians put at the feet (or rather, 'hurl at the head') of Israel, the fact remains that Israel always tries for peace and they always refuse. So it seems the time has come for activating some of the Jerusalemite memory and move to the next phase, as described in the bible. This, btw, is an opinion.
Meanwhile, the "simple people" here, try their best to live as normal a life as it is possible to live in a place where every stone is loaded with historical meaning. People like the above mentioned cab driver, the stall merchants in the old city, the tour guides and the cooks and waiters in the city's eateries. Everyone is simply trying to make a living. And in the evenings, when the harsh heat abates, they spill into the streets and sit in the many cafes, little restaurants and bars; most of them outdoors, enjoying the refreshing breeze and the night life; just trying to live as if it is perfectly normal to have signs everywhere directing you to the nearest bomb shelter, soldiers patrolling holy places and guards asking you to open your bags when you enter a store, so you can prove you carry no weapons. Too bad they don't check people's mouths. I know some teenage girls who should register theirs as lethal.
Naturally, we ate a lot in restaurants this week, which is how we were introduced to our new favorite dish: Eggplant "Baladi". Now, when I was a young girl, back in the olden days, the word 'baladi' meant 'homegrown' or 'organic'. Sort of "this was raised by simple farmers on a small farm using no sophisticated modern methods". Nowadays, apparently, it means "smothered in Tahini". It's a dish that represents very well what can happen when Israelis and Palestinians actually cooperate. I'm sure they did not mean to, and it's only in the kitchen, but hey, whatever works, right?
I, being on vacation, and having zero access to a proper kitchen this week, am not a 100% sure how this dish is made. But, I can sort of tell you the 'storyline' of the dish, with ideas and hints, and let you work from there. OK?
Eggplant with Tahini and tomato sauces
So, first of all, you need the type of eggplant that is fat and chunky. It's not exactly black and not exactly purple but a mixture of both. It's also not smooth like the regular eggplants but has some sort of vertical, not very large ridges. You may be able to do this with a regular eggplant that is very fat around but it will have plenty of seeds and taste not so great.
OK. You've got the right eggplant. You will need one per person. You need to get the flesh super soft without charring the skin too badly. This can be done by baking it thoroughly and then peeling carefully. So, put the eggplant in a pan (it's a good idea to spray it first). Make one or two small slits in it. Cover with foil (see if you can make sure the foil does not touch the eggplant.) Bake at 450F for about 20-30 minutes or until a fork can get in easily. Check after the first 20 minutes and every 10 minutes after, until you get a consistency you can imagine eating without any real chewing.
Take it out and let it cool a little. Peel it very carefully, leaving it as whole as you can, leaving the stem intact. You should have a peeled, cooked, whole eggplant, with the stem holding it all together.
Prepare some Tahini (mix sesame paste with enough water to the consistency of stirred yogurt; this requires patient stirring and plenty of faith; add the water slowly.) Spice it up to your liking with salt, pepper, crushed garlic, lemon juice and (optional) chopped parsley.
Next, prepare a tomato sauce. We had this with either a freshly made tomato salsa (quite spicy) or a cooked sauce a little like creamy tomato sauce for pasta, very mild and sweet-like. Both versions are excellent.
Reheat the eggplant a little (microwave, maybe?) The dish is supposed to be served warm. Put the whole eggplant on a plate, pour some tahini on and around it on one side and the tomato sauce on the other side (the tomato sauce was never served on the eggplant, although they are eaten together.) The way this is eaten is by forking a piece of eggplant, dragging it through both sauces, putting the whole thing in your mouth and moaning with pleasure.
This will, hopefully, put you in a mellow mood which will help you ask for peace in Jerusalem. This time, however, I recommend asking G-d. The people we keep asking for peace have made their answer very clear. Ask G-d. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. It's a hauntingly beautiful place that desperately needs some peace and quiet. Sha-aloo Sh'lom Yerushalayim.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Same old. Same old?
One of the things that non-observant people complain about with regards to the Torah is that it is very repetitive. This week's parasha is a fine example. Not only have we already heard practically everything in it, but even within the parasha itself there are phrases that keep repeating themselves. When you visit Israel, you get a better appreciation for the patience of the Israelites who had to hear everything over and over again while standing outdoors, in the desert sun and desert heat, with no air conditioning, no electricity and no running water. Let me tell you, people, this place is hot! Miserably so. And to add insult to injury, every Israeli I met said the same thing "this is the coolest July we have had in years"
So I think about my poor ancestors, who had to listen to the whole book of D'varim in this heat (and I'm sure the Amonites and Moabites and Edomites made them miserable by claiming "Oh, this is nothing; wait until August and you'll see real heat".) For many years, Moshe was teaching the same things, using practically the same words. Now, instead of getting on with it, he is repeating everything. In the same words. Again.
We camped at lake Kinneret this week. I can't remember a time I was more uncomfortable. The heat, the dirt, the little rocks that get inside your clothes (no, this is not a typo), the big rocks that trip you when you seek some relief in the lake, the bugs (oy, the bugs), the humidity, the bathrooms (there's a joke) that were so far away, I had to plan each trip ahead of time. You name it, I suffered through it.
But when I got up (at 5AM, of course, who can sleep in that humidity), the lake stretched out in front of me, grayish blue and shrouded in mists. And the sun, just peeking over the Golan Heights, colored the mountains in the palest of pinks. And I swam far into the lake and floated on my back, alone with the sky and the mountains and the water and the quiet and G-d. Prayers take on a whole different meaning when they burst out of you spontaneously at the sight of His beautiful creation.
The night before, Kinneret was a black sea, with diamonds and rubies glittering all around the shores, like a precious necklace around a beautiful woman's neck. When we first arrived, in the afternoon, it was a storming sea, pale green and wavy, with just a touch of white foam at the top of each wave.
The next day, once the sun was up, the lake was as smooth as a mirror, light blue and refreshing, and just before we left the waves started once again.
As the song says: "I will look at you again and again, Kinneret; You have a thousand different faces from morning till nighttime."
Our sages say that the Torah has 70 "faces". I'm sure they meant "Many facets." (The number 70 is too small to be real. Probably the Gazillion of its time.) That's why it repeats everything endlessly. Because the more you read, the more you find out different things. And they are different if you read them in the morning (i.e. as a child) or in the evening (old age). There are even differences in what you see when you read Torah in a happy mood or a gloomy one. If you're sick or healthy. If you read alone or with someone else. It's always different. Like Kinneret.
It's good to take something that we're sure we already know 'by heart' and find a new 'face' in it. A new way to look at it, a new twist. In a paraphrase on the famous saying about stepping twice into the same river, you cannot read the same verse twice. While the verse is 'the same', you are not. And that makes all the difference.
This happened because I chopped some onion for the chicken and then realized it would interfere with the baby potatoes (remember them? I use them all the time; I love them) that I planned to place under the chicken. I also had a quarter of a red bell pepper in the fridge that did not look as if it will be used anytime soon. And I chopped up way to much rosemary for the potatoes. I could not just scatter the stuff over the chicken because then it will slide off and desecrate the potatoes (horrified gasp!) so I came up with a different way to utilize it.
3 chicken thighs and 3 drumsticks (bone-in, skin-on!!)
1 small onion, chopped
1/4 red bell pepper, chopped
1 tsp fresh rosemary, chopped (or 1/4 tsp, dry, crumbled)
Seasoning for the chicken (your choice: salt, pepper, paprika, garlic powder,cumin, whatever your family likes)
Carefully push the skin away from the flesh of the chicken pieces, creating space between them, trying to keep the skin intact as much as possible.
Mix together onion, bell pepper and rosemary.
Stuff a small amount of the vegetable mix under the skin of each piece of chicken. This can be a bit tricky, especially with the drumsticks. Do the best you can and know that it will not be perfect. The idea is to insert some veggies under the skin and to try and keep as much of it as possible in place.
Place the chicken in a roasting pan (I lined mine with baby potatoes, oiled generously with olive oil and sprinkled with coarse salt and rosemary, but you don't have to. Just oil the pan first.)
Season the chicken to your liking (you can brush each piece with olive oil first, if you wish.)
Bake at 425F until juices run clear, about an hour.
The veggies cook gently and make nice mini 'side dish' when you serve the chicken.
Serves 4
Homework: Whatever it is in your life that does not touch you any longer (person, place, activity), try to look at it from a different angle. Change the place, the time or the mood you approach it with. You may find a new 'face' you didn't even suspect was there. My secular Israeli friends and relatives: You can even try it with the Torah. It's not a-l-l just boring repetitions of random threats upon your 'freedom'.
So I think about my poor ancestors, who had to listen to the whole book of D'varim in this heat (and I'm sure the Amonites and Moabites and Edomites made them miserable by claiming "Oh, this is nothing; wait until August and you'll see real heat".) For many years, Moshe was teaching the same things, using practically the same words. Now, instead of getting on with it, he is repeating everything. In the same words. Again.
We camped at lake Kinneret this week. I can't remember a time I was more uncomfortable. The heat, the dirt, the little rocks that get inside your clothes (no, this is not a typo), the big rocks that trip you when you seek some relief in the lake, the bugs (oy, the bugs), the humidity, the bathrooms (there's a joke) that were so far away, I had to plan each trip ahead of time. You name it, I suffered through it.
But when I got up (at 5AM, of course, who can sleep in that humidity), the lake stretched out in front of me, grayish blue and shrouded in mists. And the sun, just peeking over the Golan Heights, colored the mountains in the palest of pinks. And I swam far into the lake and floated on my back, alone with the sky and the mountains and the water and the quiet and G-d. Prayers take on a whole different meaning when they burst out of you spontaneously at the sight of His beautiful creation.
The night before, Kinneret was a black sea, with diamonds and rubies glittering all around the shores, like a precious necklace around a beautiful woman's neck. When we first arrived, in the afternoon, it was a storming sea, pale green and wavy, with just a touch of white foam at the top of each wave.
The next day, once the sun was up, the lake was as smooth as a mirror, light blue and refreshing, and just before we left the waves started once again.
As the song says: "I will look at you again and again, Kinneret; You have a thousand different faces from morning till nighttime."
Our sages say that the Torah has 70 "faces". I'm sure they meant "Many facets." (The number 70 is too small to be real. Probably the Gazillion of its time.) That's why it repeats everything endlessly. Because the more you read, the more you find out different things. And they are different if you read them in the morning (i.e. as a child) or in the evening (old age). There are even differences in what you see when you read Torah in a happy mood or a gloomy one. If you're sick or healthy. If you read alone or with someone else. It's always different. Like Kinneret.
It's good to take something that we're sure we already know 'by heart' and find a new 'face' in it. A new way to look at it, a new twist. In a paraphrase on the famous saying about stepping twice into the same river, you cannot read the same verse twice. While the verse is 'the same', you are not. And that makes all the difference.
A quirky twist on chicken
This happened because I chopped some onion for the chicken and then realized it would interfere with the baby potatoes (remember them? I use them all the time; I love them) that I planned to place under the chicken. I also had a quarter of a red bell pepper in the fridge that did not look as if it will be used anytime soon. And I chopped up way to much rosemary for the potatoes. I could not just scatter the stuff over the chicken because then it will slide off and desecrate the potatoes (horrified gasp!) so I came up with a different way to utilize it.
3 chicken thighs and 3 drumsticks (bone-in, skin-on!!)
1 small onion, chopped
1/4 red bell pepper, chopped
1 tsp fresh rosemary, chopped (or 1/4 tsp, dry, crumbled)
Seasoning for the chicken (your choice: salt, pepper, paprika, garlic powder,cumin, whatever your family likes)
Carefully push the skin away from the flesh of the chicken pieces, creating space between them, trying to keep the skin intact as much as possible.
Mix together onion, bell pepper and rosemary.
Stuff a small amount of the vegetable mix under the skin of each piece of chicken. This can be a bit tricky, especially with the drumsticks. Do the best you can and know that it will not be perfect. The idea is to insert some veggies under the skin and to try and keep as much of it as possible in place.
Place the chicken in a roasting pan (I lined mine with baby potatoes, oiled generously with olive oil and sprinkled with coarse salt and rosemary, but you don't have to. Just oil the pan first.)
Season the chicken to your liking (you can brush each piece with olive oil first, if you wish.)
Bake at 425F until juices run clear, about an hour.
The veggies cook gently and make nice mini 'side dish' when you serve the chicken.
Serves 4
Homework: Whatever it is in your life that does not touch you any longer (person, place, activity), try to look at it from a different angle. Change the place, the time or the mood you approach it with. You may find a new 'face' you didn't even suspect was there. My secular Israeli friends and relatives: You can even try it with the Torah. It's not a-l-l just boring repetitions of random threats upon your 'freedom'.
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